


The Man With No Home

by MiaLyn



Series: Son [2]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, F/M, First Meetings, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaLyn/pseuds/MiaLyn
Summary: Ever since he knew he came from another planet, Clark has been seeking for answers. He did not expect to meet a single mother, Diana Prince on the way.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Diana Prince (one sided), Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne
Series: Son [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1324472
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	The Man With No Home

**Author's Note:**

> Short tie-in with 'Son', written a while back. I wanted to show Clark's point of view, especially since we are approaching the events of MOS but it didn't really fit in the main story.  
> Enjoy :)

**The Man With No Home**

The first thing Clark noticed when he came to awareness was the scent of jasmine. Only next came the sounds and the dim light, but first and foremost was the jasmine spread around the room, warm and relaxing. His eyes were killing him so he focused on what his other senses could tell him: he was lying flat on a comfortable bed, dressed in soft clothes. This was no apartment but a house –if he strained his ear, he could hear the sea close by, a storm growling in the back. The only occupants were a woman –he could hear her words speaking softly in a foreign language –and a toddler- he recognized the small cooing and sharp shrieks of laugher of a baby growing up. And the scent of jasmine.

After a few moments, he decided he had rested enough and rolled on the side. His body arched and smelt of salt, he briefly remembered falling from a ship to rescue men from the impressive fire of an oil rig, and then being projected far from the site, amongst the seals. He must have lost consciousness at some point, as he couldn’t remember landing here.

He opened his eyes. ‘Here’ was a small bedroom –a guest room he assumed because of the lack of decorations. The blinds weren’t completely closed, which allowed him to spot a large closet, a small desk and a chair. He stood up, took a few steps closer to the window, peeked through. There was indeed a large shore spreading down the house with the sea crashing against it. He glanced back towards the horizon. Dark heavy clouds were forming, a promise of heavy rain and thunder. The next few hours were going to be hell on the coast.

The woman stopped chatting, as if she had heard him move. She then whispered something to the baby and left his room, self-assured steps walking in his direction.

He heard a gentle knock on the door. A second later, it opened. The jasmine became overwhelming as the woman entered. She seemed around his age, in her mid to late twenties. Dark long hair, loose over her shoulder, dark eyes. She wore dark denims and a red shirt, her feet buried into large furry bear slippers. Why bears, he wondered, before glancing back to her face. She was watching him with friendly guardedness. Clark also noted then that she might be one of the most beautiful women he had ever met.

“You’re awake,” she stated. Her voice had a slight accent, one that he couldn’t place. It made him wonder how far he had drifted. “Do you understand me?” His throat felt dry, so he nodded instead. “Good. Do you want water?” Another nod. “I will be right back.”

She didn’t close the door but left it slightly ajar. Not quite an invitation to follow. Clark wondered if he should leave now while he still had the chance. The woman might search for him though, out of fear of him trying to hurt her. He had only heard her and the baby so far. She was probably married, he thought. Beautiful women like her were always taken –not that he had been trying to conquer her anyway. He had paths to explore, needed to find more clues as to where he could find other people like him; if he were _truly_ alone. 

“Here,” the woman said.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, not having heard her arrive. How did she…

“Thank you,” he said distractedly and nearly regretted it: his throat hurt terribly. He felt her faze on him as he swallowed everything in one go. The water wasn’t cold, but just cool enough to satisfy his thirst and warm enough to relieve the soreness. He met her gaze once he was done, waiting for her to give him a sign on how to act, and wondering if he was frightening her. She did not appear scared, merely curious. He didn’t know which reaction was better, especially if she started asking questions he was not ready to answer.

“I found you on the shore,” she said bluntly. “You were still alive, so I brought you here. I took the liberty of changing you and put you to bed. I hope you don’t mind.”

Clark shook his head. She had brought him to safety and taken care of him, even though he might turn out to be a danger. He could only thank her for her kindness. He did glance back at the shore and evaluated the distance.

“I admit, it was not easy,” he heard her say with a hint of amusement, as if she had been reading his thoughts. “There is warm water if you want to take a shower. I washed your clothes, they are drying.”

“I will,” he spoke again, and his throat hurt less. “Thank you.”

Her eyes reminded him of a hawk, intense and prying.

“There is a storm coming,” she said eventually. “You are welcomed to stay here until it’s over. I would drop you off to the next village, but I am not keen on leaving now.

As if to support her words, the wind blew harder. He could hear the ceiling cracking under the pressure.

“Is the house solid enough to sustain a bad storm?” He wondered out loud.

“Yes, this old lady has gone through far worse, she will hold out months.”

“…that’s good to know,” he said as he x-rayed the foundations. They were solid, the walls thicker than he expected and the roof built to sustain harsh weather. He glanced outside again. The clouds were very dark, incoming fast. A violent storm wouldn’t harm him, but he doubted the woman would agree to let him out on his own. “I’ll wait till it’s passed.”

She looked satisfied with his answer.

“I’ll show you the shower,” she said, and added: “My name is Diana.”

He knew at the very moment that he liked her. She wasn’t intimidated, but straightforward and welcoming him, a complete stranger, under her roof in a time of need. Very few people he knew would have opened their door to a tall lone man for shelter.

“Henry,” he said, picking randomly one of the many names he had been using since he left Kansas, and followed to outside.

**TMWNH**

The storm lasted a few days, longer than he anticipated. Clark didn’t mind. Diana was a good hostess and good company. Although she didn’t speak much about her own life, he came to a few conclusions of his own.

She was unmarried and unattached. Her son, a cute but restless one-year-old named Hippolyte, was her world. She never mentioned his father, so he didn’t ask. She was also intelligent, highly cultivated and well-raised. She spoke calmly, always polite with that slight accent he still hadn’t managed to pin down. She was warm and distant at the same time, opened and guarded, a mysterious contradiction that intrigued him a little more every day. The little information she did volunteer was vague: she came from a small Greek island, had been raised by her mother and aunt, and had never met her own father. She spoke a little of her travels around the world, of the things she had seen. Her experiences made him wonder if he shouldn’t extend his searching ground to the north of Europe.

He offered to cook –a task she didn’t shine at, according to her own words, and she let him. He played with Hippolyte most of the time, sat in her living-room when the toddler napped, and eventually, found himself strongly attracted to Diana. He blamed her kindness, the ease in which she put him. She never looked like she wanted to judge him. She listened to him speak of himself, of his search for his birth parents. She didn’t question his origins, didn’t push him to reveal his past. She didn’t seem interested in him in _that_ way, but Clark’s subconscious made his own feelings on the matter clear. Diana would start invading his dreams, even though he repeatedly told himself the situation was temporary.

The storm came and passed. She didn’t mention him leaving so neither did he. A full week went by. Diana left with Hip downtown for grocery shopping, abandoning him behind, mostly because she didn’t want to encourage gossip. He made himself useful by cleaning the house and preparing food. When they returned, she required his help to move a mirror back in the garage. Said garage was full of junk, old objects and unpacked cartons.

“They belong to the previous owners,” she explained. “I didn’t take the time to clear it; I don’t intend to stay here forever.”

Clark wondered if he should offer his help if only to have a true reason to stay longer. He was also nervous to betray his super strength or other attributes that made him different. Diana wasn’t stupid, she might have caught on that there was more to him that met the eye. But she respected his distance and discretion and didn’t push, although sometimes it was clear she might want to.

And sometimes, he thought he _wanted_ her to.

**TMWNH**

“Lunch is ready,” he announced.

Diana peeked from over her laptop, comfortably settled in her couch. She had been working on some obscure project all morning while Hippolyte, the little rascal, had been walking around, bumping into things and pulling at her leg. Clark knew she was watching him from the corner of the eye, pretending to be annoyed, grimacing and then smiling as he shrieked in delight at her attention.

He was a cuddly child, always happily hugging people –in particular his favorite person in the world. It was hard not to want to hold him. With his big blue eyes, thick dark hair, slightly wavy at the edges, chubby cheeks and beaming smile, even the most hardened heart would melt at the sight.

Diana put her laptop on the side and picked up her son. The toddler shrieked again, babbled something in his baby language and clung to his mother’s neck. She kissed his cheek and carried him to the baby chair. The table had been set earlier, Clark just had to put the dish on the table and serve. They all sat and started digging. Diana fed Hippolyte, conversed with him and emptied her plate with an appreciative smile. He watched them, considered the easy routine they had settled in, and recalled the phone call he had made while she had been out to the grocery shopping.

_Every few weeks, he called her to let her know he was alive, to update her on his travels. It hurt to think he was making her sad, but at least she understood why he needed to leave._

_“_ So where are you now _?” Martha Kent asked softly, and he could almost picture her warm face as she spoke._

_“An isolated cottage in Ireland.” He had found out the second day of his arrival, much to his dismay._

“Do I want to know how you ended up there without your passport?”

_“Probably not,” and he winced, knowing he’d have to somehow travel the country without proper papers. Perhaps he should swim back to the other continent?_

“Are you alright?”

_“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve been staying at a place for some days now. I’ll have to leave soon though.” And he didn’t want to. Living with Diana and Hip had been…restful, peaceful even. The road was anything but and the lack of result of his quest was discouraging._

_“_ Clark _,” his mother said, suddenly more alert._ “Are you sure you’re alright?”

_Thinking of Diana always made him smile, no matter how involuntarily. And Martha Kent somehow sensed it without him needed to speak._

“What’s her name?”

_“Ma,” he protested, and he felt the heat in his cheeks. “It’s not like that.”_

“As long as you behave properly, young man,” _she warned him._ “You will show the lady the proper Kent behavior.”

_“I_ have _been on my best behavior,” he protested, but he was still smiling._

“Good. Now tell me everything about her.”

_He did. He spoke of her kindness, of her good heart, of her son. He admitted for the first time that he entertained hopes, that he was tiring of his travels, that what he found with Diana and Hippolyte was perhaps worth more than knowing his origins. And then his mother said:_

“If you think there’s a possibility for you to be happy with her, take it. _”_

_And he had thought about it, long after he hung up._

He genuinely liked Diana, and he thought she didn’t resent him either. But could he really take a chance with her? Tell her about the spaceship resting in his parents’ garage? Could he really be tempted into stopping his quest and stay with her…start anew with her?

As he chewed on his carrots and corn, he pondered over the possibilities. He had been gone for nearly a year now, listening carefully to rumors and urban legends, in vain so far. And the road had led him to the home of this beautiful woman and her child, questioning if this insane journey was worth it.

He suddenly realized he wanted more. He wanted to trust Diana, open himself to her, give her his heart and guard hers in return. He could see himself raising Hippolyte, bringing up the boy as his own, and figure out if children were a possibility for him. Diana might not want to live in Kent, but he could deal with that. Perhaps he could convince his mother to join them when she grew older…

“Henry, are you alright?”

Diana was staring at him with concerned eyes. He fought the blush creeping on his cheeks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied a little too quickly.

And he was, he thought, as Diana returned her attention on Hip who had decided that carrots would benefit the floor better than his mouth. This familial atmosphere, he wanted it. He wanted it with Diana. He wanted to learn more about her, about their potential. And he wanted to do it soon.

Tonight, he thought, after they put Hippolyte to bed. He’d talk to her tonight.

**TMWNH**

It was not meant to be. Diana stood quietly in the doorway as he prepared to pour his heart to her, and bluntly told him:

“I think you should leave soon.”

And all Clark could do was stare in shock, because he hadn’t thought she was considering his departure, hadn’t thought he was bothering her with his presence. And so he apologized for making her uncomfortable, his cheek red in shame and embarrassed beyond words.

“You are trying to find yourself, Henry,” she replied to his protests, and he suddenly hated the fake name, because ‘Henry’ was not _him_. “I won’t settle for someone who might leave soon.” And then she added the words that killed any hopes he might harbor: “I am glad you could rest here, but I would not be helping you by allowing you to stay any longer.”

And so he swallowed his disappointment and said:

“Alright, I will leave tomorrow morning.”

She said nothing for a few moments, but clearly something was on her mind. So he waited to see if she showed signs to dismiss him or not.

“Henry,” she eventually said. “I want you to know, I am not asking you to leave because you are different.”

Clark frowned, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes met his straightforwardly. A cold feeling came over him as he contemplated what she could _possibly_ mean.

“The day I brought you home, you have just been washed out by the sea. Your clothes were torn, yet you had no injuries. When I thought I’d have to patch you up, your skin was unblemished and intact.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to find an excuse –but she went on:

“The day I returned from the grocery shopping, you cleaned the house. I asked your help to move a mirror to the storage room.” She paused. “That mirror weighed near a hundred kilos. You were not bothered by its weight as you carried it with your _bare_ hands.”

Clark wanted to slap himself. How could he have not evaluated –

“And there are so many details I can’t think of them all, and you were careful, I have to give you that.” She gave him a long stare and added gently: “I never thought of you as a threat and you were a good companion these past weeks, but it’s time for you to go. I genuinely wish you well.”

So he found himself back on the road, leaving early in the morning with a mere ‘thank you’ note, her phone number engraved in his memory. And even though he still felt bitter at being needled away, he was…happy, somewhat, that one person did not outright reject him because of his powers. It made him hope that others would welcome him one day.

He _did_ swim back halfway to the States, before being picked up by a cruiser who mistook him for a shipwreck escapee. On impulse, he walked straight back to Kansas, caught with the sudden urge to see his mother once again. Martha Kent welcomed him with opened arms and he realized that what he thought he had found with Diana, he had all along. His home was in Kansas, and it didn’t matter where he really came from. To the people of Smallville, he was Clark Kent, beloved son of Martha and Jonathan Kent, the oddball and solitary boy that people didn’t necessarily like but would help in case of need because in their mind, he fitted in their small community. And in Martha’s eyes, he was already someone she was proud of.

It should be enough, he thought, enough to start moving on, enough to convince her. And after a few days of renewing with his mother and neighbors, he called her.

Diana remembered him, of course, and spoke to him lightly, asking about his travels, how he was holding up and what was he up to. She listened to him, commented occasionally and he thought himself back to her house and basked in the familiarity of their conversation.

“Diana,” he suddenly said. “I know who I am even without knowing my birth parents; I should have figured it out from the start. I don’t think my wandering was a waste though, because I met you.” She did not answer, and he went on, ignoring the tightness of his throat and the hard drumming of his heart. “It’s sudden but Diana, I think I’m in love with you.” No reply, but he heard her sharp inhale. “You are a wonderful woman and I- I think we have potential. I think we could be a couple, if you will let me in.”

There was a heavy pause during which Clark prayed with every fiber of his being that she would listen, that she thought the same.

_“I don’t know what to say,”_ she eventually replied. Her voice sounded cold and his heart sank. _“Henry, I’m flattered, but…you are a friend, and I am not-”_ she barked a short, bitter laugh. _“I am not in the mind of finding myself a boyfriend and I know your type of man.”_ Before he could inquire further, she added: “ _You think you will be content by starting a family. But trust me, in a year or two or even five from now, you will want to know where you come from. You need answers, and you won’t find them by settling down with a single mother.”_

“Is that what happened with Hippolyte’s father?”

The silence was deadly, and he knew he screwed up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

_“No, you shouldn’t.”_ Her tone chilled him so badly he really regretting calling at all. _“Trust me Henry, no matter what you are thinking, this is not a good idea.”_

“Starting a new home with someone I respect and love is a bad idea?” he retorted bitterly.

_“Hippolyte is my home, and he has been since his birth. I don’t need anyone else –I don’t want anyone else._ ” He heard her sigh heavily. “ _Go back to finding out your origins Henry, and I pray you will find your answers.”_

The dismissal cut him deep. He gritted his teeth and bit back a sharp retort. At least, he thought grimly, she was not mentioning his powers as an inconvenience.

“I wish you well Diana.”

_“Likewise Henry. And really, good luck.”_

He hung up, disappointed, and decided not to ever mention this again –not even to his mother.

**TMWNO**

Clark watched with fascination as the projection of his father –his birth father –flicked into nothingness. He had spent the past three hours listening to the functioning of the Kryptonian ship. Such technology, such novelty was incredible. He always knew he was different. This new culture, this alien culture, was his and his alone. Diana would have been fascinated.

He paused in mid movement and shook his head, shoving her away from his thoughts. For the past years, she had haunted the back of his mind. Tracking his origins had been hard enough, a work of endless patience throughout the years. Finding out the military expedition in the Artic had been an incredible strike of luck. He felt slightly sorry that Miss Lane had been injured, even though she had butchered the incredible feeling he had experienced, stepping inside this ancient yet far more modern spaceship that belonged to his people. _His_ people.

So Jonathan Kent had been right, he _was_ an alien from outer space. To think his first reflex had been to call Diana to share his findings. One would believe four years would be enough to chase her away from his mind. And yet…she had sounded happy for him…and the unfortunate impulse to try again had returned, because surely now that he was not about to set around the world, surely she would give him a chance…

But she had made her choice, and he was not it.

The bitterness lingered in the back of his throat. He could only move forward now. The disappointment was even greater as he now knew the chances to have a family of his own were reduced. He had been raised by a loving couple with no child of their own. While he knew he was _compatible_ with human women, he didn’t know if he could father a child. While his priorities had been intangible since his father’s death, he hadn’t yearned for something more until he had met Diana.

Fate _had_ to have been at work, for the chance of crashing on the shore next to her house was laughable. How he missed the time he spent there, so simple, just helping out, caring for Hippolyte –and damnit but he _missed_ the little boy’s smiles.

He tightened his fists, remembered he was not part of their lives anymore. _Unfair_ , he wanted to scream.

The panel of the wall slid open as he stepped by, revealing a dark blue suit with a red cape. The symbol of his family stood out on the chest proudly. Clark smiled bitterly. His _family_. The dream he had entertained was gone now; Diana was back with her son’s father. Had he neglected his quest and returned to her earlier, would Hippolyte be calling _him_ father? He had sought answers ever since he learned the truth from Jonathan Kent, why couldn’t he have waited a little longer? The _what if’s_ plagued him ever since his late call, barely a day earlier. Perhaps she wouldn’t have changed her mind, he reasoned, but then, he would never know. 

_Sometimes people are not compatible._

She spoke so reasonably, so calmly, as if unaware she was breaking his heart. Clark knew better than assume her coldness –Diana didn’t lie. He knew she meant every word. Was Hip’s father more _compatible_?

_Stop doing this to yourself_ , he chided. She had made her choice, and he was not it. The sting was recent, he was allowed to wallow in self-pity but not forever. He owed it to himself –and to Diana, to stay away from them.

He reached out for the suit, touched the texture. He had just made a huge discovery. He really just wished she was by his side to see it.

**TMWNH**

The day he received her text, his heart made a huge leap.

_‘Do you know a reporter named Lois Lane? She is trying to find a man who saved her life in the Artic.’_

The disappointment stung when he read the subject. But then... _Lois Lane?_ He nearly laughed; what a small world. Still, he felt warm at the very thought of the message, she might still be with Hippolyte’s father, but she cared enough to warn him. He knew better than to hope, but this stubborn part of him refused to give up. So far, he had met no equal, no-one he could compare to Diana. His mother had warned him that he seemed to keep putting her on a pedestal, that he should not think anymore of her. Clark knew that. She was out of reach now, involved with someone, and had been clear in her second rejection.

Miss Lane found him a week later, standing in the graveyard, contemplating his father’s tombstone. In his memories, she had been a spitfire, fearless journalist stepping down the chopper with this determined expression and blatantly sassing the men in charge. She was till bold, tracking him down for answers, but not quite in the hunting manner he had expected. She thanked him first, then offered to write his story. He declined and was surprised when she did not push the matter. Someone had given her a different perspective on the matter, and would let him chose if he decided to step in the light -or not.

He almost asked about Diana. He almost casually mentioned they had a common acquaintance, hoping to hear more from the woman he could not quite forget. They chatted for some time and Lois left him her professional -and personal card. He had her number if he needed to reach her –in case he changed his mind. He wouldn’t change his mind about his story being printed, but he wouldn’t mind having another friend, someone who knew his secret…in case he needed to talk. He was certain Lois would listen if he asked for an ear.

So when he returned to his mother, he assured her Miss Lois Lane was trustworthy. He knew Martha worried about him, that he had spent far too many sleepless nights over a chimera. She would worry about this new woman, as it was her right, but she would leave him be. And he would stay a while in Kansas to think about what he should do next. Take some time off, spend it with the one woman he had cruelly neglected the past years and who needed him most. He would make sure Martha was well taken care of before heading to the city and start a new life for himself.

And then, an alien ship came to hover nearby Smallville…

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter of 'Son' is halfway written btw. Should be up in a few days.


End file.
